The air in the drawing room became a pressurized chamber of violence. Theo wasn't just angry anymore; he was unraveling.
The psychological wound inflicted by Rex's cold pragmatism had torn a hole in his psyche that no amount of grief could patch. His mind was no longer his own; it was a battlefield where reality and hallucination fought for dominance.
'Kill her,' a voice hissed in the back of his skull.
It wasn't his own. It was ancient, oily, and hungry.
'She is the vessel of his corruption.'
'End the lineage.'
'End the taint.'
"Theo, please, you're scaring me." Aurelia's plea was the wrong thing to say.
To Theo's fractured mind, her fear sounded like condescension. It sounded like she was patronizing him from her position of sinful surrender.
"Scaring you?" Theo's laughter was a wet, broken sound. "You should be terrified!"
"You should be screaming until your lungs burst!"
